


déjà vu

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fate, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Reminiscing, Romantic Gestures, i guess?, lyrical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: For cousyrewatch. A little drabble reflecting in the present on S1x01 Pilot.





	déjà vu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



The faintest thought, appears again years later, to linger until it rests on the shape of a mouth.

Upturned lips, the bare hint of a smile, and like a dare, the eyes lift, rising.

Eye to eye again, and lips parted, but silent still staring in wonder at it all.

Time, and fate, or is it something more, that has always drawn them apart but infinitely closer.

So close that it's almost sharing the same heart, almost, but for getting beneath clothing and skin.

This feeling is like _déjà vu_. A reliving of the past.

A moment on a sunny day, on a happy day with good news. The world felt new again.

That feeling pulls deeper, the idea of that day brimming with possibilities and butterflies.

How can it still feel like that first day, every time you meet again?

Is this what love is supposed to be, even unfulfilled, never leaving, as others come and go?

A way that a smile should be corny instead of charming now, but it curls your toes.

The butterflies settle lower and stir up those curiosities that are revisited, alone in the dark.

This time could be different, in theory. If a hand lifted and say, touched, traced that shape.

Trembling and timid-bold at the same time, lighting along the curve, as if to say, "I missed you."

Met with parted lips coming together pressing against the tips of fingers, eyes closed.

What will happen when they open again? Back, to before this stolen moment.

Try not to panic, focus: hold on and commit to memory. This is what you do when you lose so easily.

Now, eyes closed, you don't have to wake just yet. Cheating fate like this brings a smile.

That warm, sunny day, and the way you both must have looked like a pair of fools.

Where is that dress? In the past somewhere, yes, but the spirit of it, alive, the sudden urge to shop.

The you that is here now would wear it differently, the him that is here, would he wear that suit?

"Daisy."

Called out for cheating fate, but if there is someone to wake you from a dream, at least someone you trust.

He's still there, with upturned lips, his eyes gone soft, containers for amusement.

"You've got ten minutes to decide if you really want to know."

Bright and brilliant laughter, like the warm sun and the bluest skies, like the engine humming beneath you.

"Yes." A flutter between. "It's still yes."

Sometimes the universe sweeps you off your feet, and the world is new again.

You trace the shape of a mouth with your own, with fingers curled and timid-bold, against real, solid, other forgotten things.

The question is now only: where? For getting beneath clothes and skin, for going too fast this time.

Together, turning, the answer is bright red, he looks like he might match it.

It's perfect, and you tell him so.

"Lola can keep up."


End file.
